The Doctor's Damsel (Men of the Capital Book 3) (14 page)

“It’s never dull on top,” Desmond Blair promised, his voice just husky enough to make even Annelise’s cynical eyes widen.

Flustered, Annelise dropped her eyes to his business card and a plan began to take shape in her mind. Annelise pulled out her phone, her chevron nails quickly clicking in the number listed on his posh, dark business card. Seconds later, the phone in his pocket chimed to life. He answered it, staring straight in her eyes.

“Aux Delices. This is Desmond.” His voice was low, confidential.

“Desmond, this is Annelise Hollingford. I’m calling to inquire about your availability to cater an event for my employer. I’d like to schedule an appointment to discuss an upcoming engagement gala.” She smiled slyly.

“Annelise, may I call you that? Annelise, we’re quite booked up at the moment. Perhaps I could refer you to the food business down at the intersection. They sell chicken by the bucket.”

“Perhaps I should mention that my employer is Jasper Cates, one of the most respected and discerning business figures in the recovering economy,” Annelise shot back.

“Perhaps I should mention that I don’t give a shit who you work for. I just want your personal number,” he said, his voice low.
“You have it.” She plucked her business card from his pocket boldly and presented it to him again, indicating the digits at the bottom.

“I might have a little time in, perhaps, five minutes.” He wavered with a grin, flashing white teeth and a knockout smile that took him instantly from brooding bad boy to George Clooney-level stratospheric hotness and charm. Annelise literally had to grip the doorframe to keep from swaying on her weak knees from the tidal wave of attraction that struck her.

“I’ll just press the buzzer.” She leaned past him and pushed the button again. When Kathleen’s exasperated voice said, “Yes?” they both dissolved into laughter.

Desmond reached out and pressed his thumb to the screen of her phone, ending the call. He had only touched her phone, but somehow, Annelise felt it down to her toes. He had the nerve to smile at her, as if he knew the effect he was having and enjoyed it. Cocky bastard, she thought indulgently.

Desmond Blair finally stepped aside and admitted her to an immaculate black and white tiled entry. A vast round mahogany table was topped with an elaborate centerpiece of tropical fruit in an antique silver urn. She was tempted to drop her messenger bag on the table and take a piece, but didn’t. She followed Desmond, admiring his muscular back and butt as she watched him climb stairs. Once, she was concentrating on his flexing so hard that she stumbled and missed a stair. He’d cast an amused look over his shoulder and she almost blushed. Annelise Hollingford hadn’t blushed since she was in the seventh grade.

Excerpt from ‘A Matter of Taste’ Book 2 of Men of the Capital Series

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